


Choose Your Own Transformation: Paige, the All No-ing

by MiraLockwood



Category: Original Work
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:36:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25732216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiraLockwood/pseuds/MiraLockwood
Summary: What happens if you don't accept the CYOT story as your own?Paige is about to find out.





	Choose Your Own Transformation: Paige, the All No-ing

# Choose Your Own Transformation: Paige, the All No-ing

# By The Weaver

This was a commission by [The Weaver](mailto:theweaverarcanum@gmail.com).

This story is in the public domain.

### SYNOPSIS:

What happens if you don't accept the CYOT story as your own? Paige is about to find out.

### DISCLAIMERS:

  * This story is a work of fiction; any apparent resemblance between the characters in this story and any actual persons living or dead is purely coincidental and unintentional.
  * Do not read this story if you are under the age of 18 or if explicit sexual fiction is illegal in your jurisdiction.
  * This story contains mind control and explicit descriptions of a sexual nature. If any of these concepts disturb you, please find something else to read.
  * This story is a work of erotic fantasy. It is not meant to reflect real life, nor should it be read as an endorsement of the actions and attitudes contained within.



  


#### PAIGE STOKES

Boredom is a terrible thing. I'm sure, over the course of human development, boredom has caused more problems than anything else combined. Sure, there have been wars fought over things like hate and love, but couldn't they have been averted if those involved just had something better to do? 

It's boredom, my one true nemesis, that has me scouring the internet for entertainment.

My parents often told me as a little girl I was "just too smart for my own good." I guess they wanted me to believe that intelligence was somehow evil. I rose to the challenge, defiantly accumulating as much knowledge as possible. Keeping my nose in books and research likely also kept me out of trouble. It was only when I got to college that I realized I was boring. I didn't know how to escape that particular trap either. I'm keenly aware of who I am — a wisp of a girl with all kinds of knowledge and little to no life experience. If it could be done, I'd read about it, but I'd never gone out and just done it. 

That's how I find myself in the rare books section of the library, looking for something new and/or interesting. Not new new, obviously not the right section for "new," just new to me. I'd gone down many a Wiki-hole and wanted to feel pages in my hands, smell that musky scent of paper in the air. As a desk worker at the library, I had access and I was keen on using it. 

I come across a section of paperbacks that seem out of place back here. They look like they're mass market — even first editions probably wouldn't warrant placement in the rare books section. 

I pull one down. It's got a mostly white cover, aged with a bit of yellow, with a painted cover image of a girl hiding in a darkened cabin, the title "Prisoner of the Sugar Daddy" emblazoned above that. 

With a chuckle, I flip open to the first page of text, which reads —

> You make your choice and flip to the appropriate page to see where your choice takes you. If you understand, turn the page to begin **your** story. 
> 
> Your hands are tied behind your back. You have no idea when your captor will return, nor what his plans for you are. Worse of all, some stray hair has fallen out of your pigtails and down in front of your face, tickling your nose. 
> 
> Paige, what color is that hair:
> 
> Red, page 17
> 
> Blonde, page 23

Neat trick, the book having my name as the character in it and all. Neat trick or interesting coincidence. As a lifelong brunette, however, I’d like to file a complaint with... 

I flip the book over to examine the cover. The author doesn't have a name insomuch as they have a title — The Weaver. 

What kind of bullshit is this?

I decide to put the book down, but my hand doesn't comply with my brain's demand. I can't let it go. Weird. I can transfer the book between my hands, back and forth and back and forth, but I can't remove more than one hand at a time and thus, I can't put it down. 

Feeling physically locked into the story, not wanting to walk around the library with a random book in hand, I opt to turn to page 17. 

Some of my light red hair falls into my eyes, obscuring the text for the briefest of moments as I push it out of view and continue reading — 

> You test the ropes. The knots tying your hands together are tight, but there’s probably a way for you to get out of the chair: 
> 
> Paige, do you:
> 
> Wiggle out because of your excellent fitness, page 31
> 
> Bust out because of your curvy bodaciousness, page 57

I think I've been "fit" or a close approximation of it all of my life. I want to live on the wild side and be bodacious. I flip to page 57 

I pause in my read to adjust the girls. I wear a restrictive bra that squishes my tits because if I just set them free, no one would ever look at my face. Ever since puberty triple-slapped me with sweater puppies that defy logic with their size, it seems like no one wants to take me seriously. The only way I got the job at the library was restrictive undergarments. A shame there's nothing I can do to reel in my rear, though. 

> Walking towards the kitchen and the front door, you see headlights coming down the driveway. He’s clearly on his way back. You’re worried for your safety. 
> 
> Paige, you’re worried for your future, concerned you might never get to:
> 
> Become a successful businesswoman, page 14
> 
> Become a famous actress, page 42

It seems like there's always a special brand of pervert asking if I want to be in (adult) pictures ever since I turned eighteen. For once, I'd like to be appreciated for my mind. I think book Paige has a wonderful future as a successful businesswoman, so I turn to page 14 to check in on her. 

How did I get suckered into this lame ass job at the library? Oh yeah, I'd do anything to make a buck. The library's a good honest living, but that just means there's not a lot of bucks to go around. I should look into less acceptable careers willing to pay me a lot more. I wonder how much people would pay to ogle my body? Everyone seems to want to do it on the sly, anyway. Do strippers make good cash? Something I'll have to explore when I'm back at my laptop. 

> The key jiggles in the lock. You freeze, unsure of what to do. He’s back, the man who abducted you. You never got a good look at him. Maybe he never got a good look at you either. Maybe your secret is still safe. 
> 
> Paige, you just hope he doesn’t find out about:
> 
> Your tattoos, page 7
> 
> Your piercings, page 11

I've got neither. I wonder if either would help to net me some more moolah if I decide to put them (along with the rest of my body) on display. I flip to page 11. 

I wonder where my character is pierced. Same places as me? Three in each ear, one in each nipple, another in my belly button, and a last one in my clit. I love the sting of the needle and wonder what else I can pierce. 

> The man enters. He’s older, but rugged. “You shouldn’t have done that, Paige. You shouldn’t have tried to escape. Now… I’ll have to punish you.” 
> 
> Paige, what turns you on more:
> 
> His age, page 43
> 
> His power, page 52

I've never bought in on age or power, the thing that gets me off the most and the quickest is getting paid. Still, the story must go on, so I choose the nearest page — 43. 

The head librarian is such a silver fox. I wonder if he'd let me help him live up to his title by giving him a little head. Of course, if he preferred a fuck, who am I to say no? Gray hair is such a fucking turn-on. It's not like I took this job for the money. One of these days, I'll wear through his defenses and he'll ravage me in the stacks, filling and fulfilling me like only a man who knows what he's doing can. 

> “What is your name, girl?”
> 
> The girl replies, “Paige.”
> 
> “Paige, sir.” He chides authoritatively.
> 
> “Paige, sir,” She echoes, head bowed in deference.
> 
> “I’m going to call you Peggy.” He says. Clearly his mind has been made up.
> 
> Paige, do you accept this new name:
> 
> Accept this new name wholeheartedly, page 69
> 
> Stand up for yourself, page 21

An older man can call me whatever he wants, so long as it leads to us hooking up. I’m flippin’ flipping to page 69. 

Being called Peggy’s hot. I want to be called Peggy. I want to find an older guy — possibly the head librarian — to treat me naughty and call me Peggy. After I finish this book… 

> “Strip for me, Peggy, then get on your knees.”
> 
> Peggy starts to take off her school girl outfit. First the shirt, to reveal a white lacy bra underneath. Next the pleated skirt, which showcases panties of the same lacy quality that are clearly soaked through. She slowly rolls her knee socks down, one at a time, deliciously bending forward at the hips to do so. She unclasps her bra to reveal her big breasts and pierced nipples, which stand at attention. Finally, she pulls her panties down, revealing a thick mound of hair and a groomed, wet pussy below it. 
> 
> Naked, she gets down on her knees, as commanded.
> 
> The man steps forward and grabs her hair, pulling her head backward so that she looks up into his eyes. 
> 
> “Peggy, you are a stupid slut.”
> 
> Peggy, which bothers you more:
> 
> Slut, page 76
> 
> Stupid, page 89

Just because I want to have sex doesn’t make me a slut. I flip to page 76.

Gah. The words on the page take forev— a long time to read. Stupid words. Stupid pages… Stupid Peggy. 

> Ever a dummy, Peggy reaches for her master’s zipper and awkwardly tries to figure out how to work it. He forcefully pushes her away. 
> 
> “While I like your initiative, my little Peggy dumdum. I didn’t say that you could do that. You get presents when you’re a good girl and you get spankings when you’re bad.” 
> 
> Peggy, which do you want:
> 
> Presents, page 4
> 
> Spankings, page 34
> 
> _Ooh! Presents!_ Page 1, Page 2, Page…3…

God. What I would give to have a toy to play with. I’d be a good Peggy for presents.

I rub my naughty bits and really wish I had a toy with me. Toys make everything better.

> "I promise to be a good girl," Peggy says to her master.
> 
> "Fill one hand with promises and the other with rain water, which do you think fills first?" the man asks her. 
> 
> "Umm..." Peggy says, her brain spinning but coming up with no answers.
> 
> "I have a present enough for you right here in my pants. You've proven to be a very stupid slut indeed. It' be a shame to waste that..." 
> 
> It was then that the Master claimed Peggy sexually, forever making her his own.
> 
> Paige, do you accept this as your story:
> 
> Yes, page 101
> 
> No, page 100

I want this to be my story. There’s talk of presents and sex and Peggy and fun fun fun.

I flip to 100 and stop.The fun fickle bits inside of me all scream "yes," but my fingers defiantly select “no." 

Reality whooshes around me and that’s a hell of a thing to experience.

I know that I saw a glimpse of what this book could do to a girl, my choices leaving me dumb, horny, and a redhead. 

After that taste, I want another sample. I want to see what else can become of me. I pull the next book from the shelf to entertain and change me, wondering if there's too far down a slope to be able to escape from and if a "yes" would have inexorably sealed my fate. Am I tempting fate to continue? 

Probably...

> No one had ever seen the inside of his factory. Not you. Not anybody. There was talk that the elf didn’t exist. There was even more talk that the elf was an actual elf and that’s why you never see the owner of the cookie factory give press interviews, or any interviews for that matter. You got the pink ticket, which means you and you alone get entry. No fanfare. No press. You weren’t even allowed to tell your family. If there was a hint of someone else being outside the factory in cahoots with you, it would be immediately called off and forfeited. You stand at the gate and hear some jangling off to your left-hand side. You look over and see a homeless man shaking a cup at you. “Spare some change, miss?” he says in a voice hoarse and deep through lips dry as a desert. He’s big, if he got a hold of you, you’d be done for. 
> 
> Paige, do you –
> 
> Ignore him and push open the gate, page 4
> 
> Fish around in your pockets for change, page 8

A big guy? Against my small frame? That sounds like a recipe for disaster. I've been taught from a young age not to put myself in harm's way. Don't talk to strangers. Don't accept candy from them. I think the better course is to ignore and jump to page 4. 

I've always been brash. A firecracker, if you will. Everyone says it about me, too. They point me out as a real social butterfly, though when the two paths diverge in the woods, I'm much more apt to take the less traveled one. 

> You sidestep the homeless man and you can feel his eyes bore into you. You sense as he stands up suddenly behind you. You stop cold, unsure of what’s about to happen, but then he discards layers of costume and mask to reveal himself to be your host. 
> 
> “Looks like fate picked a visitor of questionable worth.” He says, his bright and friendly smile forced and full of disdain.“Go ahead and keep your money, I’ve got oodles. Follow!” 
> 
> He gestures.
> 
> The gate swings open, seemingly of its own accord.
> 
> The elf’s back is turned.
> 
> Paige, do you –
> 
> Take the selfie while you can, page 15
> 
> Simply follow him, page 16

Where's the harm in a selfie? I flip to page 15.

I have one thing to say to all the people who think I'm self-obsessed — get over yourselves. So the fuck what? Honestly? Your scorn tells me that you're paying attention and most likely jealous. I do me. 

...

> Paige, do you accept this as your story:
> 
> Yes, page 101
> 
> No, page 100

No story is good enough for me. No person is good enough for me. The fact that I grace people with my awesome pop music, strutting my killer body in music videos that I'm sure men and boys alike get off to, is my gift to the world. The world owes me a lot more than a story like this. 

I flip to 100.

Whoosh.

Reality reclaims me.

Oof. Are there worse fates than a puffed up, hyper-sexualized, pink-haired pop princess? I'm sure there are, but just thinking about her self-aggrandizing attitude leaves a bad taste in my mouth. I'll miss the clothes, though, I can still feel the soft sheer fabric on my skin even though I know they're gone. It's all that real. Coming back to plain 'ol regular me feels like a bit of a letdown. 

That's when I know I should stop. The urge to pull another book down from the shelf to see what happens is stronger than after the first book. I should really step out of the rare books cage and go back up to the main floor and the returns desk where I'm supposed to be working right now. With no clocks in sight, I don't even know how long I've been gone or what trouble I'm making for myself. 

But the thought persists... Maybe just one more...

> You arrive at the nunnery on schedule and Mother Superior greets you at the gate. She has an air of authority that leads you to immediately trust her. 
> 
> “Paige. Welcome. You will find life here to be simple, but the opportunity to grow in your faith is worth the small sacrifices. After a long journey, some choose to shower, but others want to go to confession immediately, leaving the sins of the world outside these gates. Which would you prefer?” 
> 
> Paige, do you:
> 
> Opt for the shower, page 23
> 
> Opt for the confessional, page 42

I'm not the type to get grimy from travel. When in Rome... or a nunnery as it were... I flip to 42\. 

Sin is everywhere in this world. It takes a strong spine and an even stronger backbone to remain pure in the face of it all. 

...

> Paige, do you accept this as your story:
> 
> Yes, page 101
> 
> No, page 100

My story is not mine to choose. I don't belong to myself. I must be told what to do and how to do it and when to do it... 

The book, and the inherent decision, weighs heavy in my hands. As a vessel for others to use, I know it isn't right for me to have a mind of my own, but in order to be of service, a choice must be made. 

I reluctantly turn to page 100 and hope that whatever punishment I must endure is meted fairly, considering. 

Whoa.

Reality whooshes around me again.

I feel like someone walked on my grave because I was very nearly left as less than a person and more of an object, a tool, or a toy. 

Despite that very real threat looming over the books, I reach for another.

Choosing 'no' when presented with a down on her luck farm girl who moved to the city and is ready to fall for the first handsome stranger who presents himself. 

I choose 'no' again, abandoning an identity of a dominatrix who may or may not have been a succubus. 

I also 'no' a cam girl with a heart of gold and tan to match.

I reach for the very last book and discover the first interior page is blank, unlike the rest of them. I keep flipping forward a few pages until words appear. 

> I appreciate your desire to not be boxed into an identity, so Paige, I offer you this.

Page turn.

> A series of either/or questions with no story and no hidden agenda.

Page turn.

> You can, quite clearly, define and redefine yourself, but at the end, the result will be you and there is no turning back. 
> 
> Paige, will you accept this as your story:
> 
> Yes, turn the page
> 
> No, reshelve the book

I return the book to its rightful place on the shelf, and then return myself to my appointed position at the front desk. Something in my eyes, face, or demeanor stop the head librarian from asking what took me away for my missing period of time. 

While it was fun to explore the myriad of me's, what it all taught me was... I like me. Flaws and all. I accept wispy and bookish brunette me. All of those books were like playing dress up. I'm okay with putting the costume away. 

Of course, so long as I have this job, I can always go back to the rare book cage, pluck a book down, choose another path, and maybe even choose yes and stick with it. 

I don't think I will, though.

I know me all too well...


End file.
